Veiled PAGE



Anna - Ayasha Meyer:

God, I am in a sorry state! My head is bursting! I must stop drinking! It's so hot here and so dark. The best thing is to get up, turn on the lights and open the windows. For fuck's sake! Why can't I move? No matter, I merely keep sleeping. After hours: And where am I? It's all so dark here. I still can't move. But I now feel quite comfortable, just like in a warm, protective cocoon. Probably when I had my last drink? Oh! I can see a thin white stripe on the horizon, so beautiful! I hear a humming now, no, it is very quiet chanting. All is so beautiful, so quiet and peaceful. I want to stay here forever.

-- What Anna Meyer didn't know, she was in the Purdah, and she was completely self-sufficient. Food and drink were supplied to her via probes and disposed of with the special pillow, which at the same time massaged her body at intervals to ensure proper blood circulation in her body. She was isolated from all external stimuli. The goal was to cure her alcohol-poisoned body and to change her personalities completely. Large parts of her memory needed to be erased and replaced by false memories. In the final analysis, they wanted a perfectly Western convert. Her DNA should serve research as a pattern for program-controlled conversion, which could be transmitted to other women by nanobots, such as a virus. At the same time, Egyptian laboratories were working on a version for men. Should they ever succeed, the fate of the non-Muslim world would be sealed. --

Anna Meyer sat in her cocoon and was happy. She had merely forgotten many things. She wasn't an alcoholic anymore, and she didn't even know that she was addicted to alcohol. She was only interested in the passing texts. The white stripe was Arabic writing that wandered from right to left, while at the same time quietly reciting the corresponding Koran verses. Six times a day they were interrupted by prayers. Gradually the memory of her late husband disappeared, and she got an artificial mind of her conversion and life as a niqaabi. Her name was Ayasha, and she was supposed to travel to Egypt and get married to an Egyptian scientist, and so all the knowledge of a niqaabi dripped into her mind and western Anna Meyer vanished.

Rocher Weber, Frank Weber:

Rocher Weber, his father Frank and Ali Meiser are meeting in Anna Meyer's Condominium.

"Roger, please ensure to vacate the flat in 5 days," said his father, Frank.

"Well, the furniture, TV, washing machine and other household appliances are going to the warehouse. All the papers you pack into these boxes and bring them to the administration." Mr Meiser said:

"As soon as the apartment is empty, promptly order the craftsmen, Mr Weber.

Amber Meyer:

My mother Anna-Ayasha Meyer had handed over all her assets to the Madrasa. For her and me, her daughter Julia-Amber, there was no turning back now. Now we were destitute and dependent. The madrasah soon became my home. There I was happy.

When I was on my way to school with Kamila and Samira in the morning, we were always under the supervision of a male student to protect our new acquired modesty. We girls sat quietly on our seats in the tram with hijabs pulled deep into our faces.

When I returned home from school one day, my mother was waiting for me in the reception hall. A black ghost came up to me and showed me her display:

"Hello, Amber! It's me, your mother!" Joyfully we fell into each other's arms.

"Mama, how are you?" I asked her.

"Wonderful, dear! Today I am still travelling to Egypt to get married to my new husband," I could read. I was so happy about Mother's change but sad at the same time that Mother would have to leave me.

"I am so happy to be married to a good Muslim. I will be an obedient and capable wife to him."

"Mama, I am so happy to be a ward of the Weber family. They will be my family now that you leave me."

"Be an obedient and pious daughter to them, and you will do great honour to Allah and me?" she wrote.

The Imam urged us to depart. We hugged each other, perhaps for the last time. Then she followed him to the car.

As soon as I entered the madrasah, my daily routine began. The sisters taught us, girls, how to run a Muslim household: Cooking, cleaning, sewing and the proper serving to the men. Disrupted by the prayers, we fulfilled with great ambition the duties we had to perform as good Muslimahs. In moments of rest, we read the Koran and waited joyfully for the day of our wedding.